


I Just Wanna Watch Your Clouds Linger In The Darkness

by cantthinkofausername_B_Pike



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz Pitch loves Simon Snow, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, The Mage is a Horrible Parent, but don't worry, everybody's crying, it really isn't that sad, update: everyone is no longer crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike/pseuds/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike
Summary: Simon Snow has everything he could ever want. He is heir to the throne (even if the arrival of a legitimate heir would unseat him in a second), he is going to be married to his beautiful girlfriend Agatha, and he is staying one step ahead of Baz's plotting. So why is everything falling apart?Baz Pitch is determined. He knows that King David had his mother killed and stole the position of Mage from her, and now he just has to prove it. There are a couple problems with his plan, though. The Old Families don't care about proof, they just want the king (and by extension, his son Simon) dead. And Baz has been in love with Simon for as long as he can remember.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I got frustrated that there weren't enough (and by enough, I mean any that I could find) medieval AUs in this fandom, so I wrote one. As with anything I write, the angst quickly got out of hand. I'm sorry. There will be a happy ending though, it just might take a while.  
> Fair warning: I am not British and make no attempt to write like a British person.  
> Also: for clarity, I'm going to explain this here. All nobility in this AU have magic, and the Mage is a powerful magician that uses magic to protect the kingdom in war. Magic is not used often, and barely ever for tasks that can be accomplished without magic. (how many times can I use 'magic' in two sentences...)  
> I will try to update once a week, emphasis on TRY. No promises.  
> Title from Today I Saw The Whole World by Pierce the Veil. It doesn't go with this fic at all except for being generally sad :)

SIMON

“Come on, Penny, do I really have to go?” Simon whined. He really did, and he knew it. As the heir to the throne, Simon was required to publicly appear at certain events. There was no way he could manage to skip out on the birthday celebration for his father, King David. Unfortunately.

Penny raised an eyebrow at Simon. “We’ve been over this. Everyone in the castle will be there, and so will you. Now hurry up, you know he’ll be mad if you’re late.”

Simon shuddered. He hated to disappoint his father, who so rarely took notice of Simon’s behavior. He looked himself over one last time in the mirror, brushed off his jacket, straightened his tie, and turned around. “All right, let’s go.”

Outside the main doors to the great hall, Penny gave Simon a quick hug. “I’ll meet you after. I’ll be,” she cast her eyes around for a suitable meeting spot, “over by that suit of armor.” She pointed to a particularly ridiculous-looking piece near the courtyard. Simon would have no trouble remembering that; it was the suit that he swore would subtly move every time it was unobserved. (Baz had probably enchanted it. Just to mess with him.)  
“Good luck.” Penny disappeared into the crowd of people entering the hall. 

This was one of Simon’s least favorite parts of parties like this. (Really, every part was uniquely terrible.) He was forced to eat at the high table next to his father, while Penny ate with everyone else. At least he got to sit with Agatha. Only the King’s family and the most powerful nobles were allowed at the high table. Usually, this meant King David, Simon, Agatha, Lord Pitch, his son Basilton, and three or four other members of the Old Families. The atmosphere was always tense- no one could let their guard down for a second. It was an open secret that the Old Families (the most powerful nobles, the ones who had held their positions in court for generations) despised the king. Simon wasn’t really sure why, and he didn’t really care. He thought it might have something to do with the king also being the Mage, which hadn’t happened before. His father said that they were stuck in the old ways and hated the change he was bringing. 

Politics were not something that Simon had ever cared about, so he tried his best to ignore the war of glares and pointed comments around him. For the last few years, he had simply tuned everyone else out and talked to Agatha. Today, though, she was making that difficult.

“Agatha? Aggie?” 

She didn’t respond; she was clearly not hearing a word Simon said.

“Hello? Agatha? Anyone home?”

She was staring at something to Simon’s left. He followed her gaze and found that (no surprise here) she was looking at Baz. Again. For being engaged to Simon, Agatha spent incredible amounts of time looking at and talking to Baz. At first, this had confused Simon. Why was she looking at Baz like that? Why wasn’t she looking at _him_ like that anymore? But after a while he simply stopped caring. _Of course_ she would like Baz better than him. Baz was better looking, better at magic, better with words… and Simon’s arch nemesis.

Simon had always been a little surprised that Agatha was with him. Sure, he was the heir to the throne, but that wasn’t guaranteed. No one knew who his mother was, but since King David had never married, Simon was considered a bastard child. The arrival of a legitimate heir would be all it would take for him to lose any semblance of status. Of course, the king seemed to have no intention of marrying anyone, so he was safe. For now. (Simon had once, when he was very young, asked his father why he wasn’t married. His father had asked him if he would rather the king use his time to find a wife or to make life better for his people. Simon had never asked again.)

But his tenuous position wasn’t the only reason he was surprised his relationship had lasted this long. Agatha had come to live in King David’s court when she was fourteen, five years ago. Supposedly it was to ‘broaden her education’ or something, but everyone knew it was because her parents (powerful nobles in the kingdom to the north) wanted her to marry here. Even at that age, she had felt- well, distant was probably the best word for it. She had quickly struck up a friendship with Penny, then Simon (they started dating a year later), and they had tried to make her feel at home. But no matter what, they knew she was never as happy as she had been up north. 

For a while, life had been perfect for Simon. Or, well, as close to perfect as he thought it could get. He was dating a beautiful girl he really liked, he had a wonderful best friend, and he was an important member of court. His plotting archenemy was worrying, but he was confident that he could foil any of Baz’s schemes. Nothing had changed, not really, but he didn’t feel that happy anymore. He was still dating Agatha. In fact, they had been engaged for about a year now. She was still beautiful. Penny was still an amazing best friend. He was still the heir to the throne. Baz was still plotting. Except now, Agatha was flirting with Baz and staring at Baz and doing who knows what else with Baz, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be jealous. The most he could muster was a resigned “Of course.” Except now, his father hadn’t spoken to him in six months, and tonight’s feast was the first time he had seen him in nearly as long. Except now, Baz hadn’t done anything to try and hurt or injure or even irritate Simon except flirt with his girlfriend in a long time.

Something was definitely wrong.

 

As soon as he was able, Simon darted out of the hall. He lingered near the questionable suit of armor (which was facing to the right; Simon could’ve sworn it was facing forward when he last saw it) and waited for Penny. It took her much longer to leave the hall than it had taken him, as she did not have access to a conveniently placed private door. Nearly everyone in the castle poured out the main hall doors, heading to the grounds, where the party was set to continue. Eventually, Simon spotted Penny’s bright red hair in the crowd and waved.

“Hey! Si!” Penny enthusiastically bounded over to him. Her face fell as she took in his expression. “Everything okay?”

“Hey Pen.” Simon smiled wanly. “I’m fine. Just,” he waved his hand in the general direction of the hall, “hate all that.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. It must be awful up there.” 

After a minute, she continued, “D’you want to go outside?”

He nodded, relieved. Being outdoors always helped him to calm down.

 

The two of them walked in comfortable silence. Eventually, they sank down in the grass by the bank of the moat. On a normal day, they wouldn’t be able to come here this late (they were outside the walls, and the drawbridge usually closed at dusk) but today it would stay down all night as a convenience to partygoers. Whenever he was in a bad mood, Simon would come to that spot, to the thin strip of land between the moat and the woods, to cool down. 

Originally, it had started out as a place to go when his uncontrollable magic reached a boiling point, but over the years it had become something more. Somewhere safe.

They watched the stars blink onto the sky. Both of them knew that Simon would bring up what was bothering him in time, and that there was no point pushing him. Not unless they wanted to risk him going off, which would only be counterproductive.

“I really hate banquets like that,” Simon said. “It’s just that I’m up there at that table and,” he paused for a second, “I don’t care. It’s like he thinks he can have me sit there and eventually I’ll want to be a part of it.”

Penny nodded.

“And I hate that he can- that he can just ignore me for months and months and- and suddenly pretend like it matters to him if I’m sitting next to him or not.” He stared at the water rushing past them for a while, then continued, “Sometimes I wonder if he’s like this because of me. Because I can’t be the Mage after him, with my magic like it is. Because I’m replaceable. Or maybe he just doesn’t have time,” He trailed off.

“You are not _replaceable_ , Simon. And he certainly isn’t like that because of you.” She huffed. “The Mage- your father- doesn’t know how to be a father. He doesn’t know how to have a family, and he isn’t interested in learning. But nothing about him is your fault. _Nothing_.” She moved to sit next to him, and he leaned his head on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Pen,” he whispered. She wrapped her arm around him and held him a little closer.

The sun had completely disappeared from the sky and the air was starting to feel uncomfortably cold before Simon spoke again. “And Agatha won’t even talk to me anymore.”

“I noticed you two didn’t seem as chatty at dinner as you usually are. Is everything going all right between you?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was. But now,” he sniffled, “now I don’t think so.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“She spent the whole time staring at Baz.” 

“Well, that’s… not exactly _new_ , is it?” 

Simon looked up at her, clearly hurt. “No, but tonight, I wasn’t even _surprised_.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve where he was starting to tear up. “And the only thing I could think was ‘why not?’ I think- I think she doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Oh, Simon,” Penny started.

“But,” he interrupted, “that’s not the worst part. The worst part is, I get it. And- and I should be a lot more upset about it. But I’m _not_. I’m just _not_.” He started to cry in earnest, making no effort to check the flow of tears down his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Penny turned and held him. “It’ll be okay, Si.” He shook in her arms as he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been wanting to post this since Friday... The only reason I didn't is because my sister refused to beta read it until today to stop me. I am going to be posting a new chapter every Tuesday. I already have quite a bit written and I'm excited :)  
> Enjoy Baz being an angsty mess!

BAZ

Baz hated banquets with a passion. He hated being stuck on that ridiculous high table with the man who had stolen his mother’s title; hated not being able to prove it. He especially hated being forced to pose as someone who gave a fuck. His father and the rest of the Old Families wanted to take the king down to stop his reforms that were slowly eroding at their power. He couldn’t care less about all that; all he wanted was to get revenge on the person who killed his mother. And even if he couldn’t prove it, he was sure that King David had ordered that bandit attack on her caravan all those years ago, then taken her place as Mage in the resulting chaos. Just being near him made his skin crawl.

After the dinner ended, he made his way out to the garden with all the other guests. All he wanted to do was get out of there, but his father had a tight grip on his shoulder and was steering him toward conversations with nobles whose names he would promptly forget. 

The courtyard garden was lavishly decorated for the event, with little white lights popping on as the light from the sunset faded and the few trees, covered in silver, caught the light of the rising moon. He let himself be dragged into several meaningless exchanges with powerful nobles, all of which went in one ear and out the other. His father had been trying to set Baz up as the next Mage once he overthrew the king, so at every social gathering he was forced to meet those who Lord Pitch felt might support him.

Since his role in every conversation was to listen and occasionally agree with something, Baz let his mind wander. He looked for Dev and Niall for a minute, and quickly found them trying to pick up a couple of girls from a nearby town. After a while, when his eyes were still roving over the garden, he realized that he was looking for Simon.

He internally cursed himself out. _Why are you looking for Simon? You know he doesn’t want to see you. All he ever does is accuse you of plotting his demise, anyway._ But it didn’t make a difference. Snow had worn a gray suit and clearly made an effort to look nice earlier. _It was probably for his girlfriend._ ( _Fiancée,_ a voice in the back of his head whispered.) This knowledge had not stopped Baz from staring as Snow hurried to his seat. It hadn’t stopped him from wanting to kiss him and rip that suit right off him. He had barely managed to sneer in time when Snow had glanced over at him. And more than anything, Baz wanted to see him again. But he _wasn’t here._

As soon as he was able, he snuck away from the party and started to head back towards the castle. There really was no reason to suffer through these events if he couldn’t at least look at Simon. He had nearly escaped when a hand tapped his arm.

“Who the-” he spun around. “Oh, it’s you,” he added, seeing Agatha standing in front of him.

“You don’t sound very happy to see me,” she said, sliding her hand up his arm.

“That’s because I’m not.” He watched her hand with increasing suspicion.

Her hand stopped on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Agatha,” he removed her hand and placed it back at her side, “no.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Why have you been flirting with me all this time if you didn’t like me? Why were you staring at me all through dinner if you didn’t want me?” Her voice started to get louder as she went on, and he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“Agatha,” he began, “I wasn’t-”

“Is this because I’m with Simon?” She cut him off. “Because I’m going to leave him, you know.”

 _I wasn’t staring at you,_ he wanted to say. _It’s always been him._

“No, it’s not that. But I don’t want this with you. I never have. I’m sorry.”

Twin tear tracks raced down her cheeks. “But, Baz!”

“I’m sorry, Agatha.”

 

He had been going back to his room to fall asleep, but after that he needed space. He felt horrible for what he’d done to her. All this time, he had been flirting with her to make Snow jealous, and had never given one thought to her. Being stuck in the middle like that. He shuddered.

He slowly made his way across the drawbridge to his secret place. Just out of sight from the bridge, the forest nearly met the edge of the moat. The few feet of treeless bank felt private, like somewhere no one could find him. He had been coming here to escape from life in the castle for years.

He was thankful that he didn’t have to worry about being locked out of the castle tonight, as he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. The last of the sunlight had disappeared as he walked through the trees, and he was making his way by the slivers of moonlight that occasionally poked through the canopy.

As he neared the edge of the trees, he heard what sounded like crying. Peering out from the forest, he saw something he had never expected: Simon Snow, crying in Penelope Bunce’s arms, in _Baz’s_ secret place. Which, he supposed, must be Snow’s secret place too. What were the odds?

He immediately felt disgusted at himself for intruding. If it were him sitting there, breaking down on the riverbank, he knew he wouldn’t want anyone there. As he turned to leave, he heard Snow say something that sounded scarily like “Agatha.” Suddenly, he couldn’t walk away fast enough. Agatha was going to leave Snow. Snow knew. And it was _all his fault._

What a shitty night. First, he left Agatha crying in the courtyard, and he had just walked away from Snow crying by the moat. He had never meant to hurt anyone. All he had wanted to do was to make Snow feel like he felt. For years now, he had stood on the sidelines and watched the perfect couple, and the entire time all he could think was that he _wished it was him._ He wanted it to be him and Snow, together like that. He’d never been so jealous of someone, and he wanted Snow to feel what that was like. But now- now it seemed like all he’d succeeded in doing was ruining their happiness. And Baz should be happy. That’s what Snow had always thought Baz wanted, when in reality it was just the opposite. He sank down behind a tree, looked up at the only star he could see through the leaves, and cried. Why was it only now that he realized he would rather see Snow happy with someone else than sad by himself?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to stop the angsting," I say. And then there's this. Why.  
> I wrote this a while ago and am now looking back at it... I hope you like this chapter more than I currently do.

SIMON

Simon spent most of the next couple days in his room. He didn’t want to see Agatha, since he knew that any day now she would break things off with him. Then, they would fight, and he didn’t want to fight with her. He especially didn’t want to see Baz, since he was sure what was going on with him and Agatha was somehow his fault.

Since he wouldn’t leave, Penny came to see Simon. At first, she spent a long time trying to convince him to go outside, but once it became clear that this was pointless, she just sat on the windowsill and read a book until it became too dark to see the pages.

“Hey, Pen?” He asked on the evening of the third day.

“Yeah, Si?”

“I’m going to have to go talk to her tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“I would.”

“I just wish- I wish it would all go back to how it was.” He sighed.

“Times change, Si. And you’ve got to be able to change with them.” After a few minutes, she added, “Besides, if you talk to her, you might find out you’re reading this all wrong.”

“Or I might find out that I’m right.”

“That’s just a chance you have to take, isn’t it?”

Penny had given up on reading and was watching the sun set over the castle walls when Simon next spoke. “I just don’t understand why he did it.”

“Hmmm?”

“Baz. He’s been flirting with Agatha almost since we got engaged. And I don’t know why.”

Penny laughed quietly. “You’re always saying he’s out to make you miserable. And it looks like here, he succeeded.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Simon shrugged. “That must be it.” But the thing was, that didn’t feel like the reason. He and Baz had hated each other for such a long time that he no longer remembered why the feud had begun. Maybe it was just an extension of the hatred between the king and the Old Families. After all, that would make sense- Simon was heir to the Mage, and Baz was heir to the head of the Families. But going after his relationship felt a lot more personal than that.

The next morning, Simon decided there really was no putting it off any longer. He had to go talk to Agatha. After making this decision, he loitered in his room for another few hours, until it could no longer be reasonably called ‘morning’. Then, he took a deep breath and left the room.

Not even five minutes later, he ran into Agatha. Literally. He had been so busy constructing what he was going to say when he saw her that he walked straight into her on the stairs.

“Oh- sorry. Crowley, I’m so sorry, Aggie. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine, Si. I wasn’t either.” She smiled sadly. “Actually, I was just coming to see you.”

All of Simon’s carefully planned words flew right out of his head. “Yeah, I was- I was looking for you too.”

“Listen, Simon, we can’t be together anymore.” She looked truly sorry to be saying that, but her voice was steady. She’d been thinking about this.

“I- that’s- that’s what I thought you’d say. But, why?” Simon stammered. “I thought we were endgame.”

“You’ve always thought of me as a prize, Si, and I’m not. I don’t want to be someone’s endgame. I want to be someone’s right now.”

“Is this because of Baz?”

“No.” She shook her head and laughed sadly. “It was, for a bit. But, no. The way you think, Baz is behind everything. But this is just us. And this, us, can’t happen anymore.” She took a breath. “I’m going back home. You and Penny have been such good friends to me here, but it’s just not where I belong.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Now. I came to say goodbye, Simon.”

“Well, um, goodbye, Agatha.”

Suddenly, she stepped forward and hugged him. “I’ll miss you, Simon.” She pulled away and kissed him on the cheek. “Have a nice life,” she whispered as she turned and walked back down the stairs.

 

Simon waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps before he moved. He stood in the stairwell, and thought he should probably be sad. Anyone else would be sad, he reasoned, if their fiancée had just dumped them and moved out of the kingdom. Instead, he felt strangely empty. Well, that at least made sense. Even more than being his girlfriend, Agatha had been one of Simon’s closest friends for years. Their relationship, he realized, had been over for some time, but he had hoped they could at least be friends. 

He slowly made his way to the same spot on the moat where he had cried after the party. He knew now that at least some of what he had been grieving that night had been Agatha. He had gotten it all out of his system over the last few days, and now he felt hollow. He leaned against a tree trunk and watched the water; a mindless current to match his own numb mind.

 

When he saw the light begin to dim, he hurried back into the castle. He had been stuck outside the walls one night several years ago, and had no desire to relive the experience. Especially now that the nights were growing colder.

Since he had missed dinner, Simon figured he’d swing by the kitchens on his way back up to his room. He had always been friendly with the kitchen staff, and they usually had a couple of scones set aside for him. (Ever since he was a kid, Simon would show up at random times to get extra food- he was always hungry. The cooks and bakers had gotten used to him fairly quickly.)

Simon was strolling down the covered walkway to the kitchens (they had been housed in a separate building ever since a young cook forgot about a turkey in an oven and set the entire castle on fire hundreds of years earlier) when he saw Baz. He would have ignored him, he told himself, if he hadn’t been acting so suspicious. A light mist had started to fall a few minutes earlier that promised to turn into a downpour. In spite of this, Baz was hurrying through the gardens under the trees, looking for all the world as if he wished he were invisible. So, naturally, Simon did what anyone would do in this situation. (It wasn’t like he had been wanting to fight him.) (He had.)

“OI BAZ!”

Simon stormed out from under the shelter of the walkway and advanced on his enemy through the rain. A flash of surprise, then something that looked almost like regret, passed over Baz’s face before it settled into its cold mask.

“WHAT’RE YOU DOING OUT THERE?”

If anyone else had been in earshot, Simon’s shouting would’ve drawn a crowd. As it was, the two of them were alone in the spitting rain.

“What do you _want,_ Snow?” Baz sounded almost tired.

“Agatha left today, you know.”

Baz raised an eyebrow imperiously. “And?”

“I thought you might want to know, since she was _clearly_ so important to you,” Simon practically hissed.

“I think you have us confused, Snow. _You_ are her boyfriend.” He could feel the condescension dripping from Baz’s words. “And she is _nothing_ to me.”

“Nothing, huh? Flirted with her for a year because she was _nothing?”_

“That is _exactly_ right.”

“You git!”

Baz smirked.

“You- I can’t believe you!”

“You’re always telling me I’m evil. Isn’t this exactly what you expect?” Simon could hear the smug satisfaction in Baz’s voice.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why’d you do it? Just to hurt me?” Simon was losing steam; he sounded even to his own ears as though he was pleading. Begging Baz to explain.

Baz’s voice dropped so low Simon wouldn’t have heard it if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats. _“Because I like it when you’re mad.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to get happier soon, I promise. Not next chapter, but soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. It gets happier soon I promise.  
> Again, thanks to my wonderful sister for continuing to beta this story :)
> 
> tw for internalized homophobia and possible non-internalized homophobia (it doesn't happen but it is thought about)

BAZ

Baz watched as Snow processed his words. _Because I like it when you’re mad._ Snow’s idiotic face turned bright red, and he looked like he wanted to shout something but couldn’t find the words. After a few seconds of his mouth opening and closing like he was a fish out of water, he spun away and marched off in a huff. Baz watched him go.

When he was confident Snow was gone, he leaned back against the tree’s delicate trunk. It was no longer silver from the party a few days before, but the raindrops caught in the leaves still seemed iridescent.

Of all the things he had said tonight, that was farthest from the truth, and yet that had felt the most revealing. The rest, while true, was only his usual vitriol. _I like it when you’re mad._ It was safe when Snow was mad. It was easy when Snow hated him. When they were fighting, when they couldn’t be in the same room as each other without starting an argument, there was less of a chance Baz would do something he’d regret. Something like kissing him; something like telling him everything.

And what a tragedy that would be. He could see it perfectly, had pictured it so many times. Snow would push him away, disgusted. His words changed every time, but all meant rejection. _How could you think that I would love someone like you? I never want to see you again. Freak._

And that wouldn’t be the worst part. (Privately, he thought that never being able to see Simon Snow again would crush him.) His family would shun him. Not just for loving a boy, though he knew they disapproved of that. For loving _Simon._ The Families hated everything and everyone to do with the king, and he had fallen in love with the king’s son.

So instead of kissing Snow, he insulted him. Instead of comforting him, he fed his anger. Instead of telling him how much he loved him, he made him hate him. It was safe that way. And if it tore him up inside every time, no one needed to know.

 

Baz was soaked through from the rain by the time he remembered why he had been outside in the first place. He had been heading over to his workroom.  
Five or six years ago, he had discovered an empty portion of the dungeons, seemingly lost to time. He had immediately claimed them, moving his investigation to this much more secure location. Before, if anyone had come into his room they would have seen the evidence everywhere. Since he was ten, Baz had been trying to prove that his mother had been murdered. Or, well, everyone knew Natasha Grimm-Pitch had been murdered. What no one else believed was that the bandit attack that had killed her hadn’t been an accident. When he was twelve, his father had patiently explained to him that “it doesn’t matter if the king was behind it, Basilton. What matters is that we remove that ridiculous man from power as soon as possible. That the Mage is a Pitch again. Now I need you to stop this and do your part for the family.” For the last seven years, he had continued to investigate in secret. 

He knew that, fourteen years after her death, the odds of him coming across a lead were slim to none. This didn’t stop him from trying. Whenever he knew he could get away with it (which was at least twice a week) he would disappear for a few hours. Up until today, no one had noticed. Then Snow (of course it would be Snow) had seen him cutting through the courtyard to the overgrown door. He was lucky, though. Snow had gotten so flustered yelling at him that he completely forgot why he had started the fight- namely, Baz’s suspicious behavior. 

Baz collapsed into the mound of pillows that occupied most of the floor space. If he was going to have a top-secret room for investigating murder, he could at least make it comfortable. Two torches that would never go out sat in sconces near the door. Chalkboards leaned against three walls, most covered with lists and diagrams in multicolored chalk. The final wall seemed to have gained a life of its own- every inch of its surface was covered with pieces of paper, hurriedly scrawled copies of official reports, and bits of thread connecting it all. With every breath of air into the room, the entire wall fluttered.

Today wasn’t going to be a day for research. This happened sometimes. (More often than not, nowadays.) Instead of using his time to piece together the puzzle, he used it as an escape. He curled up in his nest of pillows and stared at the ceiling. He had poured so much life into this place that it sometimes felt more alive, more real, than the closed-off, two-faced rest of the castle. Though she had never set foot in the place, Baz felt closer to his mother here than anywhere else.

As he lay there, cataloguing the slowly growing expanse of mold on the stones, Baz wondered. If his mother had never been killed, would this feud even exist? The Families had never gotten along with King David well. But if he hadn’t taken the title of Mage for himself, would they have been able to maintain their uneasy peace? Or would everything have remained much the same? If his mother had lived, would an abandoned old basement be the only place Baz didn’t have to pretend?

Baz was sick of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. From the moment he moved his work down here, he knew he would always have a secret. Something he could never tell his family. But only a few weeks afterward, Baz’s father put him on Simon-watching duty. If the heir acted remotely suspicious, if he slipped up and revealed any of the king’s plans, Baz had to know about it. Baz had to be better at everything, to make sure the king’s son didn’t gain any advantages. And somehow, this made keeping his secret okay. Even if his father didn’t think his investigation was worthwhile, he was still trusting Baz with an important task. 

Sometime over the first few months of spying on Simon, Baz realized something. One was that Simon was very attractive. The second was that he had no interest in girls. Dev and Niall were always going on about how cute this girl was, or how great that girl looked. They could be found making out with someone (a different girl every time) in the corner at every party. When he was thirteen, he thought that the reason that didn’t sound remotely enjoyable to him was probably because he hadn’t tried it. Maybe it was like that time they had broken into the storeroom for Dev’s birthday- alcohol hadn’t sounded like it would be fun, but they got so drunk they passed out anyway, and Baz had a great time. (He had also woken up with a raging hangover the next morning that ruined his day, but that wasn’t important.)

It was probably the same with girls, Baz thought. After all, his friends hadn’t gone on about them nearly as much before. So, he decided that he would fix that at the next party. (And hopefully, get Simon Snow’s irritatingly gorgeous face out of his head.) Needless to say, it had the opposite effect. When he was kissing her (He couldn’t remember her name. Had he ever known it?) he felt- bored. It wasn’t until he pretended she was some faceless boy that he had any fun. And when that faceless boy all too quickly resolved into Simon Snow, he broke away from her, gasping, and ran away.

That became his second secret. Dev and Niall always looked at him a little oddly after that, but he never told them the real reason for his disappearance. After all, him suddenly coming down with food poisoning seemed a lot more likely (and acceptable) than him vividly imagining that he was making out with Simon Snow. If they had truly been his friends, then he wouldn’t have lied, he told himself. But that was just it- he didn’t have any friends. Dev and Niall were the closest thing to it, but they were simply the only other children of the Old Families his age. (And therefore, the only suitable friends, according to Lord Pitch.) So he kept it to himself and wished that his crush would just _go away,_ that he could be _normal._

When he was fifteen, the exact opposite happened. It wasn’t just that Snow was beautiful and that he wanted to kiss him and do other things to him, though he still very much wanted that. It became emotional too- when he was fifteen, Baz realized that he was in love with Simon. And he hated it. How was he supposed to help his family- how was he supposed to do anything that would finally make his father approve of him- when he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Snow? He still wanted the king gone as badly as he always had, though now, he would rather do anything than let the Families get rid of the crown prince too. So he started lying to his father. Not much, not about important things, but enough to make sure that Snow would never be involved in any of their plots, that he would be safe. And Baz was happy. (Or at least, as happy as someone in love with their enemy could be.)

Only a few weeks later, Agatha Wellbelove entered the picture. She had been there for a while, skirting the edges of the frame, but suddenly she appeared at the center in blazing color. Simon and Agatha were the talk of the castle. Hopefully, most were saying, they would marry and cement the alliance between their two kingdoms. _Hopefully,_ Baz found himself thinking, _this ends quickly._

But then, at eighteen, Simon proposed. Baz felt like he’d been shot. Their relationship had been easy enough to ignore before, as neither were the type for doing anything more affectionate than holding hands in public. After, Baz couldn’t look at Snow without seeing him marrying his perfect girl and having his perfect life. And he should be happy for him, he knew he should. But it _hurt._ He’d had three years of Snow causing him pain (five, really) and it had built up in him until he couldn’t take it anymore. So he started flirting with Agatha. Little things at first, quickly building up to that night at the king’s birthday dinner. He couldn’t believe it. He had done what he set out to do, and it had been _so easy._ And it hurt worse than seeing them together ever had.

He lay there in the flickering light, drowning in his secrets, and wondering what he had ever done to deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone catches the Raven Cycle reference, you're awesome.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alert! Alert! Things that are not sad are happening! I repeat, not-sad things are happening! Is this (somewhat) happier tone something we can expect more of in the future? I certainly hope so.

SIMON

When Simon woke up the next morning, he was starving. His run-in with Baz had distracted him, and he had completely forgotten to pick up food. He grabbed as many scones from the kitchens as he could carry and headed to Penny’s room. (He was almost there when he remembered that he could have requested breakfast be brought to her room and he would have ended up with much more food.)

“Morning, Pen!” Simon called, knocking on her door. 

“It is MUCH too early for this, Simon!” Penny’s irritable voice sounded from somewhere in the room. A few minutes later, she opened the door and immediately slouched against the doorframe. “What?” Her red hair was sticking up every which way, and she had clearly just rolled out of bed. 

“I brought breakfast?” Simon said uncertainly. He really wasn’t sure why he had decided to see his best friend hours before she usually woke up, but here he was.

Her eyes widened as she took in the veritable mountain of scones he was carrying. “Well, since you’re here,” she said, grinning.

Simon flopped down in an armchair. He practically inhaled three scones, then picked up a fourth. Penny looked disapprovingly at him, but she had been friends with Simon for long enough that she was used to this.

“So yesterday I was talking to Baz,” Simon began.

“Wait a minute,” Penny cut in. “You were _talking_ to Baz? As in, holding a conversation? Not fighting?”

“Well no,” he admitted, “we were definitely fighting. But that’s not the important part.”

“Mhmmmm.”

“But anyway, he was acting all sneaky so I wanted to know what he was doing,”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. Go on.”

“And when I went to talk to him about it, it didn’t even seem like he wanted to fight with me. He seemed, I don’t know, sad?”

“People are allowed to be sad, Si.”

“But _Baz_ isn’t allowed to be sad! I didn’t even think he had emotions except, uh, evil. And plotting.”

“Neither of those is actually an emotion,” Penny pointed out.

Simon frowned. “Really? Well, the point is, it was weird.”

“You think everything Baz does is weird.”

“That’s not my fault! He’s just so- so _suspicious._ ”

“I appreciate the breakfast,” Penny yawned, “but did you wake me up just to vent about Baz?”

“No! Well, maybe. Also,” Simon added, “he said he never liked Agatha.”

“Now that _is_ weird.”

“I know! I just don’t understand him at all.”

 

BAZ

For the second time in as many days, Baz was accosted crossing the courtyard to his workroom. But this time, it was by Penelope Bunce.

“BAZ! BASILTON PITCH!”

Baz was so shocked that he froze for a second. As it turns out, this was exactly the wrong move. It meant that he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard her, and it allowed her to catch up with him.

“Yes, Bunce?” He said through gritted teeth. “Since when are we on speaking terms?”

“Simon told me about your ‘conversation’ yesterday,” she said, completely ignoring him, and her voice was smiling.

Baz was slightly concerned. Simon was an idiot; there was no way he had put together the meaning behind any of Baz’s words. But Bunce was smart. She had probably seen right through him.

He decided to feign ignorance. “What conversation?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You know the one.”

“You mean when Snow decided to blame me for his relationship problems?” Baz was getting defensive.

“He told me you said you never liked Agatha. And I thought, that means you were just doing what you did to mess with his life. And that would have been pretty horrible of you.”

Baz was starting to get scared, but he tried not to show it.

“But then I remembered seeing you staring over at Agatha during the banquet the other night. And there wouldn’t have been any reason to do that if you weren’t serious. I mean, we both know Simon is oblivious. He probably didn’t even notice.”

Now, he was mostly just confused. Did Bunce really think he liked Agatha? She must be dumber than he thought.

“And suddenly, it hit me.” She tilted her head to look him in the eyes. “It wasn’t Agatha you were staring at, was it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears. _Crowley,_ this was a nightmare.

“Baz, do you like Simon?”

Baz dropped her gaze. “Please don’t tell him,” he whispered.

Her face fell. Where before she had looked triumphant, happy to have solved the problem, now she looked- well, not sad, but like she could tell how much this hurt him. 

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she said.

Baz waited for her to walk away, but instead she lingered. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, she asked quietly, “How long?”

Baz lifted his eyes from the grass to her face. “Six years.”

She looked at him with something like pity. “All this time and we never guessed.”

“That was the fucking point, Bunce,” Baz snarled. “He was never supposed to know- no one was ever supposed to know!” His voice dropped so low he could barely hear himself speak. “Safer that way.”

“You never know if you don’t try,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “He talks about you all the time, you know.” She turned and slowly walked away, leaving Baz speechless. 

For the first time in years, he had hope. He quickly tried to squash that hope, telling himself what he already knew. _Simon talks about you because he hates you,_ he thought. _He hates you, you’ve made him hate you, and you know it._ But even telling himself that couldn’t stop the warm feeling starting to bloom in his chest. _Simon Snow could actually like me. I could have a chance._

 

SIMON

Penny had been acting strange all morning. She had been grouchy, irritable, and tired when Simon showed up, but sometime in the middle of his rant about Baz’s general horribleness she suddenly became wide awake. Simon had been looking forward to a day with her of doing absolutely nothing (he had finished his schooling a couple months ago but had not been assigned any sort of job within the castle yet, and he was determined to treat it like an extremely long vacation), but Penny acted twitchy and impatient before blurting out that she had other plans for the afternoon. He wasn’t sure what those plans were, or why she hadn’t mentioned them before, but it didn’t really matter.

As it was, Simon was left to find something to do for the rest of the day. At first, he didn’t think that would be very difficult. After all, he’d somehow managed to keep himself entertained for the last eighteen years. What he quickly discovered, however, was that it was much easier to have fun with his friends than it was alone. He had spent most of the last five years either hanging out with Agatha or Penny or keeping tabs on Baz. Which he had to do, really, because how else was he supposed to foil all of his schemes? 

But now that Agatha was gone and Penny was busy, he found that most of the activities around the castle weren’t all that much fun. Or rather, they were only fun when you had friends to enjoy it with.

After attempting to read a book Penny had recommended (he fell asleep on chapter three) and a failed pickup soccer game with Gareth, a sort-of friend of his from a couple years ago, (he tripped over the ball constantly and once forgot what team he was on), he gave up. Wandering the halls turned into taking his secret route to the top of the castle walls. When they were eleven, Simon had seen Baz standing atop the walls like he was the king of the world. For months, he made it his mission to find the way up there. If he couldn’t figure out how to get there, that was one thing Baz knew that he didn’t. One way he was better than him. 

Eventually, he found it. Take the servants’ stairs near the laundry to the window with the broken lock, run across three roofs, climb the last few feet using the handholds made from chipped stone. That first time, Simon had felt euphoric. He had figured it out by himself and he was invincible. Every time after, he just felt free. He was in a place that no one but Baz knew how to find, and he had only seen the other boy up here once. He was flying, above the world, worries falling away.

Simon wasn’t sure how long he’d spent on top of the wall. It felt like he was no longer a part of the castle when he was up there, like it was another world and he was just observing. The illusion was shattered when he glanced down and saw Baz sneaking through the gardens. Again. He’d just glanced down to be sure of his footing over a particularly tricky section where the ancient stone had started to crumble. His attention was immediately drawn to the dark figure stalking through the trees. That section of the garden was cast in the shadow of the sun slipping down in the sky, so at first it didn’t look like anything. But on second glance, the spot of slightly darker shadow resolved into Simon’s arch nemesis. He’d caught Baz acting suspicious yesterday, and now he was doing it again? Simon had to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you accidentally quote The Infernal Devices... whoops.  
> So I'm trying to show Simon slowly transitioning from thinking of Baz as his enemy to just another person to... well, this is tagged Snowbaz. What do you think?  
> And I just have a hard time believing Penny never knew about their relationship before the final battle. She's smarter than that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Labor Day messed up the posting schedule last week... I forgot it was Tuesday and then didn't end up getting the chapter ready until Friday. By that time, I figured I'd just wait. I still have several chapters written after this, but this is (I believe) about the halfway point, so it's almost done! Being written, that is.

SIMON

It had been a week. A week, and Simon had learned nothing. 

Well, that wasn’t strictly true, it was just that he hadn’t learned anything important. Anything related to what he was trying to find out. He had discovered, for example, that Baz was a night person. This was a problem for Simon, who often had trouble staying up to midnight but could be counted on to be up with the sun in the morning. He had also learned that Baz rarely ate more than two times a day- to Simon, who was almost always snacking on something, it seemed like he never ate. But these things didn’t solve the mystery of why Baz was lurking in the gardens so often.

He had gone back twice in the last week. Both times, Simon had followed him from a distance and watched as Baz walked behind a hydrangea bush and disappeared. When he went to look for him, the other boy had disappeared without a trace. 

Where had he gone? 

The only thing behind the bush was the old stone wall of the castle and the ivy that covered it. Simon briefly wondered if Baz was simply standing behind the bush, casting an invisibility spell, and laughing at him. He only entertained the idea for a half second though, because while that did seem like something Baz would do, it didn’t explain how suspicious he had been acting. Or the first two trips to the garden, when Baz didn’t even know Simon was watching. Of course, Baz wasn’t supposed to know Simon was watching him now, but he’d probably figured it out. Somehow.

 

Baz’s next trip to the garden caught Simon by surprise. Every other time, Baz would disappear sometime in the early afternoon and reappear either right before dinnertime or late at night. He usually waited until the coast was clear outside. This time, he did neither. Simon had just settled in for a long day of Baz-watching and was expecting to have to follow him to the library or violin practice or countless meetings over the course of the day. But instead, he headed to the garden when the sun was barely up. When he strode behind the bush, Simon heard a _click._

Baz had never been this careless before. He’d walked past Simon- hell, Simon had been standing on the other side of the bush! Simon hadn’t even been using an invisibility spell. (He hated to use magic, as he never knew what the effects would be. He would never use magic on himself- a temporary invisibility spell was just as likely to turn him permanently green as work properly.)

As soon as he heard the _click,_ Simon knew two things. One, there was some sort of secret door behind the bush. Two, he was finally going to figure out what Baz was up to.  
Simon stared at the wall. He couldn’t figure out where that secret door could be. That wasn’t going to stop him though; he’d wait out there until Baz came out. The longer he stared at the wall though, the more it started to seem like there might be a crack in the wall just there- a clump of leaves a little too big there-

He put his hand on the wall, and the door swung open. 

He thought that was kind of creepy, how the door opened by itself. _It was probably just my magic,_ he thought. _I really wanted in, so it opened the door for me._

In front of him was an empty hallway, so narrow it seemed that the walls had moved in. Just to the right of the door, light flickered up from a staircase. Dust coated every surface except a short path down to the lower level, which had been worn clean by use. Presumably, by Baz. Simon followed the trail, stopping just short of the end. He leaned against the doorframe, just where he wouldn’t be seen if Baz were to turn around.

What was he doing? Baz was sitting in a nest of pillows in the middle of the floor, gazing intently at a book in his lap. His hair was falling in his face, covering his eyes. He looked so much more real like this- just like a boy, instead of the cold face he presented to the world. His mouth was turned up in the barest hint of a smile, a genuine smile unlike the smirks he so often gave Simon. He should look like this more, Simon thought. _I like him like this._

Where did that come from? Simon shook his head to clear that train of thought. He was here to figure out Baz’s evil scheme, not zone out staring at him.

BAZ

Snow had been standing outside the door for a while now. How long he’d been there, Baz wasn’t entirely sure, but at least five minutes had passed since he had become aware of his stalker.

This was getting ridiculous. Baz was strongly reminded of when they were fifteen, when Simon had followed him around for an entire year. For some reason, Snow had been convinced that Baz was a vampire and that if he just followed him around long enough, he would catch him in the act. Baz had found this equally hilarious and creepy. Snow should know better than to believe in vampires; much like the tooth fairy, they didn’t exist. Of course, he could see where Snow was coming from, at least a little. Baz certainly looked like the vampires in the stories, though his skin was too dark to be described as “pale as a corpse.” He had been disappearing at odd hours, since four years ago, the only time he could get away to his workroom were at night. Eventually, Snow gave up. (Maybe he finally realized that vampires only exist as a way for adults to scare children into behaving. Maybe not.)

He wondered why Snow had started this up again. There was no way he still thought Baz was a vampire, so it must be something different. Something that made Snow believe he needed to follow Baz everywhere he went for two weeks. Baz had noticed him the first day; Snow was nothing close to subtle. (He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t said anything to him before now.) (At least someone cared where he was. If it wasn’t his family, it may as well be his nemesis.)  
But this had to stop now. This place was Baz’s secret. It was everything he had been working for. And now someone else knew. Someone else who would have everything to gain from Baz losing everything.

Baz didn’t know why he had let Snow find this place. He had seen him outside the door and, instead of waiting for a safer time to work on his new idea, had _left the door open for him._ Or, at least mostly open. All Snow would’ve had to do to follow him would be to push on the door, and he’d see exactly where Baz had gone.

He was weak; he wanted someone to finally know him. He wanted that someone to be Simon Snow. But Snow didn’t seem to plan on doing anything other than watching Baz from outside the room.

"How long were you planning on lurking in the hall, Snow?”

__

SIMON

_Shit._

__Baz knew he was there. Not only that, but Baz had clearly known for a while. _How long?_ Simon thought. _ _

__“What?” Baz’s voice was higher pitched than normal, as though Simon had caught him by surprise._ _

__Simon hadn’t realized he said anything, but judging by Baz’s reaction it had been something startling. “What is all this?” He waved his hand at the room._ _

__“This,” Baz sighed, “is everything.” He seemed both incredibly nervous and relieved to be saying this._ _

__“What?” Simon had no clue what Baz was talking about._ _

__Baz laughed. “Are you just going to echo what I say?” His mask was back on. Simon couldn’t remember when it had returned, but Baz was talking to him the way he always did. Condescending, smirking. He missed seeing him unguarded._ _

__“Explain.” Simon stared into Baz’s eyes, challenging him._ _

__“It seems fairly obvious, Snow.” He raised an eyebrow and didn’t break eye contact.  
Simon wished he could raise an eyebrow to match Baz. The other boy might take him more seriously if he did. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited._ _

__Baz looked away. When he spoke, his voice was soft. Vulnerable. “It’s my mother. In here is everything I’ve ever found. About that day.”_ _

__“Oh.” Simon sighed and hung his head._ _

__“It was murder, and I’m going to prove it.” He sounded brittle, like he could shatter at any moment._ _

__“But, it was bandits. Everyone knows that.” Simon was confused. Why did Baz need to prove that?_ _

“It was the king,” Baz hissed. “He sent those bandits, he had her _killed,_ and then he stole her title. Why else would she be the first casualty in decades on that route? Why else would he have declared himself the Mage the day after-” As he spoke, his words got louder, almost shouting by the end of his speech. Suddenly, his voice dropped to a whisper. “And no one even cares."

__“My father didn’t do this. He couldn’t have.” Simon had the strange urge to comfort Baz. He hated seeing him this upset. But what he was saying made no sense._ _

__“Why not?” Baz’s words, though shaky, were a challenge._ _

__“Because- well, because he’s making things better for everyone. He wouldn’t just kill someone!”_ _

“He wouldn’t? He’s sent armies into battle, Simon. He’s killed people. _Why not?”_

__“He’s a good person. He has to be.”_ _

__Baz raised an eyebrow. “A good person who excludes half the castle simply because they were in power before his reign? A good person who pretends he doesn’t have a son whenever it suits him?”_ _

__Simon was speechless. He stood, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water._ _

__“Got something to say, Snow?”_ _

__“He- How did you? What?” He stuttered.  
“We both know you only see the king at official events, events where your absence would be suspicious. You haven’t been assigned a position in court, despite the fact that you are old enough and have been for months. Everyone in the castle knows of your unstable magic. That’s no accident.”_ _

__“You’re insufferable, you know that? And that’s crazy!” Simon whirled around and stormed out of the room._ _

__

__BAZ_ _

Baz watched Simon angrily march away with an overwhelming feeling of failure. All he’d wanted was for someone to believe him. _He wasn’t crazy._ Where he’d gone wrong was wanting that person to be Snow. What had he been thinking? There was no way the heir to the throne would believe his father capable of murder. No one would, except the Old Families. Everyone else loved King David, and of course his son would be no different. He didn’t want to fight anymore; he just wanted someone to understand. Instead, he fell back into his old habits, started a fight he didn’t want to be a part of, and made Snow leave. Again. He sighed and hung his head. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?

__Baz whipped his head up and stared at the doorway. The angry, stomping footsteps away had disappeared some time ago. The silence they left was slowly filled by soft, hesitant steps that sounded to be getting closer._ _

__Snow appeared in the hall, just outside the door. “How were you going to prove it?”_ _

__He sounded uncertain. Apologetic. Baz hated that he’d made him feel that way. Why did they always have to fight?_ _

__

__SIMON_ _

Simon had made it up the stairs and almost outside when he stopped. _What if Baz was right?_ He had years’ worth of research in that room, that much was obvious. There had to be some sort of connection then, some reason Baz could still believe it after all this time.

Before he realized what he was doing, Simon was halfway down the stairs. He crept forward. He had almost entered Baz’s secret room (He had no idea what to call the space.) when he saw Baz staring at him, shocked. _Of course, he doesn’t want to see me,_ Simon thought. _After I made a scene and shouted at him, why would he?_ But he had to know what sort of thread Baz had been following for all these years. Curiosity won out over the growing urge to run from Baz’s penetrating gaze.

__After he asked the first question that came to mind, Simon wished he hadn’t. He looked down at the floor and waited for Baz to tell him to leave._ _

__“Do you want me to show you?”_ _

__Simon was shocked. Baz’s response was so far from what he’d imagined that he wasn’t sure he had understood the other boy. But when he raised his eyes to Baz’s face, Simon didn’t see the hatred and anger he expected. Instead, he was met with honesty and something that looked like hope._ _

Why was he doing this? _Baz is my enemy, Baz is plotting to kill me._ Except he wasn’t, really. He was trying to get justice for his mother’s murder. Standing outside that doorway, Simon realized that every time he’d accused Baz of plotting, he’d been right. But he hadn’t ever been plotting against Simon, but the king. Somewhere in the back of Simon’s mind, a small voice told him that the king was his father, that he was conspiring now too, that he was the worst kind of traitor for doing this. He ignored it. Because Baz was just a boy trying to do the right thing, and he needed help.

__Simon took a deep breath, nodded, and walked through the door._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been waiting to write that scene since I got the idea for this fic in July... they're GETTING ALONG!! Well, kinda.  
> Do people even read this? I'm writing (and posting) because I'm enjoying the story, but it really would make my day to hear someone else's thoughts on it. So.  
> On a different note, the fic is over 10k and I'm way too proud of that


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the utter trash that is this chapter. But, it had to happen.  
> Random almost 3k chapter!! It doesn't seem that impressive, but this is the longest chapter or fic I've ever written. So I'm pretty proud.  
> Again, thanks to my amazing sister for betaing.

BAZ

Baz couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Not only was there someone working with him, but that someone was Simon Snow. And they weren’t fighting with each other. Snow stood next to Baz as he explained everything he’d found over the last nine years, nodding along and looking only slightly confused.

“So that’s why it had to have been the king. Because there are no bandits on that route. When you look in the records, money just disappears between one day and the next. And they knew what they had to leave - none of the magical items were taken, even though they’re much more valuable.”

Telling Snow all this felt like a weight lifted off his chest. Except - _shit_ \- what would stop him from running straight to the king with this?

“You’re not spying, are you?” He asked suspiciously.

Simon shook his head. “No! I was,” he paused, searching for words. “Trying to understand. Y’know?”

Baz nodded, relieved. “Yeah.” 

“So,” Simon hesitated, “truce?”

“What!?”

“Well, I always hated you because I thought you were plotting to kill me. But you’re not. I don’t know why you hated me, but it seems like maybe you didn’t hate me that much anyways. So, I was thinking we could work together? If you want.” 

Baz sighed. It seemed like too much to ask for, working with Snow. Maybe even being friends with Snow. It was something he’d been wishing for so long, he wasn’t quite sure it was real.

“Or we could just go back to hating each other and pretend this never happened.” Simon started talking, clearly second-guessing what he had said and trying to take it all back. Who would’ve thought that Snow, who normally could barely string a sentence together without stuttering, would ramble when he was nervous? Baz found it ridiculously cute.

Then the meaning of Snow’s words sank in. “No, a truce sounds like a great idea, Snow.” He hoped Snow couldn’t tell how happy that made him. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Snow smiled slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 

SIMON

Baz was incredibly confusing. He swung from angry to sad to tentatively happy and back again, and Simon didn’t understand it. When _he_ was mad, he stayed mad. Baz was a puzzle, Simon decided. And now that they were friends - or, at the very least, they weren’t enemies - maybe he could solve it. He hoped he could.

“So, what were you working on today?” He asked. 

He listened as Baz explained how he had been tracking down everyone who had been in his mother’s caravan that day. So far, none of them had been able to shed any light on what happened that day. The chaos of the attack had overwhelmed any specific details. There were only two people left, Baz said. A brother and sister, servants in charge of the baggage. He’d finally found them in a village only a couple hours away.

“I’m going this week. They’re the last chance I have. If they don’t know anything, nobody will believe me.” Baz spoke quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“Do you want me to go with you? Since we’re working together, and all.”

Simon watched as Baz’s eyes lit up. He looked - hopeful. “You want to?” Then he caught himself, and his mask slid partway back on. His expression became closer to disdain, and his eyes were cold. “I’ll find you when it’s time.” Sensing his cue to leave, Simon nodded and backed out of the room. 

 

He used the slow walk back to his room to analyze their conversation using every possible angle. Simon’s first instinct was to go find Penny. Surely, she would know what was going on. She could help. But almost as soon as he thought of it, he realized he wouldn’t do that. Something about what had happened in that room felt private, like something they should keep between the two of them. 

That meant he would have to figure it out by himself. Why had Baz so eagerly explained everything he was working towards? How had Simon gotten into that room in the first place? And, most importantly, what did their new truce mean?

It wasn’t until he collapsed on his bed that evening that he realized Baz had never told him when they would be going on their trip.

 

By Saturday, Simon had given up. He was convinced that either Baz had entirely forgotten, which didn’t seem likely, as he’d said that these servants were the only lead he had, or they’d never really made a truce and it had all been some sort of weird dream. He hadn’t answered any of his questions from earlier in the week. Instead, he was actively not thinking about anything that had happened that morning. Occasionally he would catch his thoughts straying to Baz, before quickly telling himself to _cut it out, you’re not thinking about it, remember?_

So it came as somewhat of a surprise when Baz knocked on his door just before lunchtime.

“What’re you doing here?” Simon asked, genuinely confused.

Baz raised an eyebrow and surveyed Simon’s room, which looked as though it had been hit by a small tornado, before replying. “We’re speaking with the last of the witnesses today, or had you forgotten?” He said drily. “And since I can still see some of the floor there, I’m sure you could’ve made a bigger mess.”

Simon turned his head. Really, it wasn’t that bad. Maybe there was a little laundry on the floor, a couple of dirty dishes on the nightstand - okay, Baz was right, it was a wreck.

“Now?” 

“Yes, Snow, now. Come on.”

Simon locked eyes with Baz (which was difficult, as the other boy seemed to be purposefully avoiding eye contact). “Wait outside. We’ll go when I’m ready.” He paused, then added, “So where exactly are we going anyway?”

 

BAZ

Baz leaned against the wall opposite Snow’s door, waiting. In the back of his mind he wondered what he would say if anyone were to find him there. After all, “My archenemy and I are running off to prove a conspiracy theory” didn’t exactly sound reasonable. Even if it was what was happening.

But most of his thoughts revolved around the fact that he was waiting to pick up his crush like they were going on a date. It felt like a thousand butterflies were living in his stomach. _Get over it,_ he told himself. _We’re investigating a murder, and we’re not even friends._

When Snow had opened the door, Baz had half expected him to tell him to leave. To say that their truce had ended the minute they’d left the workroom. Baz hadn’t even been able to look at him; he was afraid that whatever Snow said would cause his mask of disinterest to slip. (He had also been avoiding the sight of Snow in what were clearly his pajamas. That was not an image he needed.) (Yes it was.)

It took Snow such a long time to get ready that Baz was sure it was a test, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d passed or failed. Snow had seemed pleasantly surprised to find him still there when he left his room.

“What’s the plan?” Snow seemed far too cheerful.

“Follow me.” Baz turned and started walking.

He didn’t move. “Why won’t you tell me? I thought we were working together.”

Baz huffed, irritated. “We are going to the stables to get horses.” He walked back to Snow, grabbed his wrist, and began to gently pull him down the hallway. “We are going to do this quickly, because I have to attend the meeting of the Families this evening, and we’re cutting it close on time as it is.”

They fell into step with each other. “You know I can’t ride a horse, right?” 

Baz rolled his eyes. “How can you not ride a horse? Ten-year-olds can do that, Snow. How do you go places?”

“Horses don’t like me. I think they can sense my magic.” He didn’t sound bothered by this, which struck Baz as insane.

Knowing perfectly well what he had meant, Baz couldn’t resist saying “We all have magic, Snow.”

“Yeah, but mine’s all,” he made several complicated hand motions accompanied by sound effects similar to a bad approximation of fireworks, “crazy.”

Baz couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. It had been a long time since he really laughed, not in mockery or derision but from sheer enjoyment. Simon was incredibly childlike sometimes, and it was adorable. When he glanced over, he saw a smile on Snow’s face.

It was only when they reached the stables that he realized there was no way that they would both be able to take out a horse. As soon as they walked in the door, it became clear that Snow and the horses had no idea what to do with each other. Baz was the only living thing in the building that didn’t seem uncomfortable with being there. He felt bad. If he had known about this before, he would’ve thought of a way around it. _(You would’ve known if you had bothered to ask,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered.) But as it was, there was no time for another way. 

“Come on,” he muttered, leading the way to a stall a few feet away. Inside was a beautiful black horse. “She’s my sister’s,” Baz said. “Gentlest horse I’ve ever seen, so of course she named her Wraith.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitched up in what would likely have been a smile if he didn’t look so nervous. Wraith was eyeing him with similar concern.

“What’s the problem, Snow?” He hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, it was habit.

“I still can’t ride a horse.”

“That’s why we’re riding together.” Baz tried to pretend this was not going to be the most awkward moment of his life. “Unless you have a problem with that?”

Snow grimaced. “No, that’s fine.”

“After you.” Baz bowed mockingly.

SIMON

Simon was having a hard time not falling asleep. The only thing keeping him awake was fear- fear of the horse he was on and fear that he would fall off. But they’d been riding for well over an hour, and the steady rhythm of the horse was lulling him to sleep. He was leaning on Baz, who was sitting behind him. And who was cool compared to the hot day, and who was surprisingly comfortable- wait, what?

“Are we almost there?” Simon leaned forward.

“No. I’ll tell you when we get there.” He knew Baz was rolling his eyes.

He sighed, irritated. “Fine.”

Some time later (Simon had no idea how long. It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour.), Baz abruptly stopped the horse. 

“We’re here.” He busied himself hitching Wraith to the nearest tree.

Simon blinked, bleary-eyed, and looked around. “We’re still in the middle of a forest.”

“That we are,” said Baz. He pointed through the trees. “And there is our destination.”

“You sound like an old person when you talk like that.”

Baz arched an eyebrow. “How so? Intelligently?”

“No. Yeah. Whatever.” 

Baz shook his head (was he _smiling?_ ) and started walking. Simon slowly trudged after him.

The longer Simon looked, the more sure he was that there was a house ahead of them. For a second, it had just seemed like a trick of the light, but now he could see a small cottage in a clearing. And, for some reason, lots of goats. _Wait a minute…_ By the time he reached the edge of the trees, Baz was already knocking on the door. And opening it was a short, round, familiar-looking woman wearing far too many sweaters for the summer heat.

“Ebb?” Simon yelled. He picked up his pace.

“Simon!” She exclaimed, hugging him when he reached the door. “I haven’t seen you in _forever._ ”

BAZ

The woman kept talking to Snow like an old friend. “How’s life at the castle treating you? And who’s this young man?”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? Ebb, this is Baz. Baz, this is Ebb.”

Her eyes roamed up and down Baz before moving back to Snow. “You were right, he really does give off that arrogant air. Though he doesn’t seem quite as despicable as you made him out to be. I’m sensing a story here,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Hold on one second.” Baz turned to Snow. “How do you know this person? What is going on here?”

“Oh, so this isn’t a social call then?” The woman - Ebb - asked. “What a shame.”

“Baz, as I already said, this is Ebb. We met at the market. I used to come help her with her goats when things- when I needed to leave the castle.”

“Any relation to Ebeneza and Nicodemus Petty?” Baz glanced up at the sun. It was lower in the sky than he would’ve liked.

At that, her expression immediately grew serious. “I’m Ebeneza. You won’t be finding Nicky here, though.”

“Did something happen to him?” Baz had no idea what he was doing. This day just kept getting worse. Of course this crazy friend of Snow’s would be his only chance at proof. 

She chuckled, but her eyes started watering. “Nicky happened to Nicky. One day my brother just up and decided he was going to be a sailor. Pirate, or something. About ten years ago now.” She produced a handkerchief from a pocket of one of her sweaters and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “We haven’t spoken since.”

Simon stood up and found a towel, which he handed to Ebb. She nodded her thanks.

“So what brings you boys here, asking about my Nicky?"

“My mother was Mage Natasha Pitch. I saw in the records you traveled with her, and I was hoping to ask you if you remembered anything about the day of the bandit attack.” Baz tried to be as sensitive as possible. If what he’d already seen was any indication, this Ebb was a very emotional person.

Ebb wiped her eyes and smiled, a little shakily. “Don’t get many kids asking about the past. And it’s good, having a little concern for history. But that day - bad memories. What’s the purpose in dragging them back up?"

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. But I was hoping you could shed some light on it for me. I’ve always thought it seemed… off. So if there’s anything you remember…” he trailed off.

“I worked for Tasha for years. But it wasn’t just a job. We were friends, or as close to it as you can get,” Ebb began. “We had good times, Tasha, Nicky, Fi, and I.” She sniffled.

“But that day- it was horrible. Started off nice enough, trip to the next kingdom, diplomatic mission, something of the sort. Don’t remember anymore. It was beautiful, leaves just starting to turn. Then all of a sudden, there they were. Out of nowhere. Must’ve been four or five of them. And they were going through all the bags, grabbing everything they could see. I remember thinking, _this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me._ And then I heard one of them asking where Tasha was, and the doors of the carriage being ripped off, and,” she broke off to blow her nose in the towel, making no attempt to stop the flow of tears. “And then I heard her scream. That’s when I knew I was wrong, that right there was the worst thing ever to happen, hearing my best friend murdered. So I ran. I grabbed Nicky and ran and ran until we fell down, and then we got back up and kept running.”

As she spoke, Simon sat next to her, reassuringly rubbing circles on her back. By the time she finished, Baz had tears in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at Simon, but he was sure the other boy was crying. Simon’s magic felt _different,_ closer to the surface. Raw. 

Ebb dried her eyes and looked at Baz. “There’s my story. Was that… what you wanted to know?”

Baz nodded, numb. “Thank you,” he whispered. He thought he’d been prepared to hear this, after all, he’d spoken to about a dozen other witnesses. But most of them had either refused to talk to him or their stories had been so jumbled and confused as to be unintelligible. This was - he couldn’t find words.

“Wait a second.” Simon’s voice wavered. “Ebb, you said they were looking for her, right? Like a target?”

“Why, now that you mention it, yes. They,” her voice broke and she brought the towel back to her face, “they went out of their way to find her.”

Simon locked eyes with Baz. “There it is. You’ve got him now.”

Baz still felt hollowed out. But that empty space was rapidly filling with a sense of purpose. Of triumph. All these years of work, and he’d finally succeeded. _They’d_ succeeded.

Confused, Ebb looked to Simon. “What do you mean ‘him’? And you still haven’t told filled me in on how exactly you came to be friends with _that_ one.”

Simon tilted his head slightly, still looking at Baz. _Your turn,_ his eyes seemed to say.

Baz took a deep breath and began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, too, thought things were moving towards happiness for everybody. And then this happened. Why. But seriously, to the best of my knowledge this should be the last of people being seriously upset. I can hope, anyway. (Except for the Mage. But then again, who cares about the Mage?)  
> It's always been a personal headcanon that Simon's magic would make animals wary of him and that it would make him kind of upset and then I thought "why not put that in here??" Also Mordelia's horse because even though I can't find a way to put her into the story, I love Mordelia. Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about horses.  
> In case it wasn't obvious, Simon in this story has known Ebb for a while, and so, as he does, he has complained excessively about how his evil nemesis Baz is always plotting.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my amazing sister for betaing this :)  
> There's a little bit (like the tiniest mention) of internalized homophobia in this chapter so warning for that.  
> I hope you enjoy! We are steadily getting closer to the end of the story - only a few more chapters after this one.

SIMON

Most of the clearing was in shadow when they left. Ebb waved Baz goodbye, then gave Simon a hug. As Baz walked back to where they had left Wraith, Simon hung back.

“You’ll come to visit again soon?” Ebb asked. 

“I’ll try,” he said. 

“And bring him with you too. I like him.” She winked conspiratorially. “Nice catch.”

Simon turned bright red. “What? No, we’re not - What?”

Ebb sighed and shook her head, smiling. “Kids these days. I’ll see you later, Simon.”

Still spluttering, Simon backed off the porch. Ebb waved, chuckling. Simon turned, saw that Baz was waiting for him at the edge of the woods with a mildly irritated (but mostly amused. What was going on?) expression, and raced after him. He was out of breath when he reached Baz, even though the clearing wasn’t that big.

“Might want to cut back on those scones, Snow.” Baz didn’t sound nearly as condescending as he thought he did.

“Never!” Simon did his best to sound affronted, but he was sure he’d failed.

Baz rolled his eyes.

Simon wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to this point. Less than a week ago, they couldn’t be in the same room without starting a fight. But this afternoon, they’d worked well together. Even when Baz did insult him, it was no longer meant to hurt him. Simon had seen Baz smile more today than he had- well, probably ever. And it was nice. _What was going on?_

 

BAZ

The ride back to the castle felt like the ending scene of a cheesy romance novel. (Not that he’d ever read one of those. Okay, maybe he had. Once.) It was late enough that very little light filtered through the leaves. The world was cast in shadow and soft yellow light. He was, quite literally, riding off into the sunset with Simon Snow. Of course, in books, both characters were usually awake during this scene. Simon being completely asleep messed with things a little, but Baz didn’t mind.

When the light hit him, Simon was highlighted in gold. His bronze curls and tan skin seemed almost otherworldly, something someone like Baz never should have been allowed to witness. Baz couldn’t see his face (that was one issue of them both riding on the same horse) but he could hear Simon snoring softly. Mouth breather. When he’d fallen asleep, Simon had somehow shifted so that his entire weight was leaning on Baz for support. Simon was not the lightest person, Baz discovered. It was a sign of how completely and totally in over his head he was that this didn’t bother him at all.

The last of the sunlight disappeared from the forest. Cicadas started to chirp and the last of the late-summer fireflies flew around them. It was magical.

A quiet creaking interrupted the moment. It grew louder by the second, waking Simon.

“Baz, what’s that?” He mumbled sleepily.

_Shit._ “That’s the drawbridge. We’re locked out,” Baz muttered.

“What!?” Simon almost jumped out of his seat. “You mean we’re stuck out here all night?”

Baz nodded before realizing that Simon couldn’t see him. “Unfortunately.”

“Shit.” He sighed, slouching back against Baz.

Baz suddenly remembered exactly why he’d had to be back. “I missed the meeting.”

“Oh.” A moment or two passed before he added, “I’m sorry.”

“No point in being sorry, Snow, especially if it’s not your fault.” Privately, Baz thought life would be a whole lot easier if he could take his own advice. He thought maybe he was starting to.

“What’re we going to do?”

“I’ve no idea.”

They both fell silent. Without meaning to, Baz led them to the little clearing on the bank of the moat. Silently, he dismounted, then held his hand out for Simon. Side by side, they walked to the edge of the water.

Neither of them wanted to break the silence. The night felt strangely peaceful, like everything that had happened since leaving Ebb’s house had been some sort of dream. The air was warm, but the sharp breeze carried the promise of fall just around the corner. They sat down on the riverbank, sides pressed together, closer than was probably necessary. Baz had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t going to complain.

What might have been minutes or hours later, Simon leaned over and rested his head on Baz’s shoulder. Baz tensed and let out a shaky breath. Simon could probably hear his pounding heartbeat. _What was Simon doing?_

 

SIMON

Simon wasn’t sure what prompted him to sit right next to Baz like that. Or to lean his head on his shoulder. He blamed it on the night - it didn’t feel quite real, like anything that happened would cease to exist when the sun rose.

When Baz had held up his hand to help Simon off the horse, he had looked surreal. The moonlight had reflected off his black hair and washed the color out of his skin. He looked closer to a painting than a real boy. He looked beautiful, Simon thought. Like a faerie knight.

After Simon had dismounted, Baz had immediately dropped his hand. Simon felt like he’d lost something. He missed holding Baz’s hand. He didn’t let himself think about what that meant, but he did let himself walk next to Baz, sit so close to him they were touching, and finally rest his head on his shoulder.

As soon as he did, Baz shivered.

“Are you cold, Baz?”

Baz huffed a laugh. “No, Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” When Baz didn’t respond, he continued. “Is it about your mother?”

Baz turned so that he was sitting directly in front of Simon. “No.”

“You’re not upset? I would be.”

“She’s gone, and I’ve had fourteen years to deal with that. Now, I think I finally have.”

Simon wasn’t so sure. “Really? You’re okay?”

Baz locked eyes with him. “Yes, Snow. Really.”

“’kay. But, y’know, if you ever decide you’re _not_ okay, then, well, you can talk to me. If you want.”

Simon had long since given up hope on Baz responding when he heard a soft “Thanks.”

 

Simon flopped down on the grass and looked at the sky. He wasn’t sure when he’d last done this - just laid down and stargazed. If he’d ever done it. 

Some time later, Simon found that he had stopped looking at the stars and started looking at Baz. He should’ve been uncomfortable with Baz there, given how long he’d hated him. Instead, he felt peaceful, like this was the way things _should_ be. The whole scene reminded him of something out of a story. But in stories, the two characters were usually holding hands. And one of them was a girl. He’d like to be holding Baz’s hand. It probably said something about him that Baz was a boy too, but he ignored it. At present, it didn’t seem to matter.

With that thought playing in the back of his mind, Simon continued watching Baz. Suddenly, it felt like the most important thing he could be doing. Baz hadn’t laid down to watch the stars (you couldn’t look dignified doing that), but he had tilted his head back. His mouth hung open a little in wonder, and Simon’s eyes were drawn to it. His hair fell loose around his face- he hadn’t slicked it back today, though he couldn’t have known Simon liked it better this way. He’d tucked most of it behind his ear, but a few loose strands played around his face. Backlit by the moonlight reflecting off the water, Baz’s silhouette looked regal. Every few seconds, Simon felt rather than saw Baz’s gaze flick onto him and away again. 

Simon sat up. He didn’t know what he was doing. A puzzle was slowly fitting itself into place in Simon’s mind, giving him an answer he never expected. One he’d never even considered. He placed his hand, palm up, next to Baz’s.

Baz turned to him, a question in his eyes. Slowly, he moved his hand, lacing his fingers with Simon’s, breaking eye contact to glance down at his lips. “Snow?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost _hopeful-_

The last piece fell into the puzzle.

Simon practically lunged for Baz. He had just enough time to see the other boy’s eyes widen in shock, just enough time to wonder if he’d read everything wrong, before their lips met. His eyes slid closed.

And Baz came to life. Simon had always thought that kisses were supposed to be slow. Gentle. At least, that’s how it had been with Agatha. They had kissed like it was just _something to do._ They had never kissed like this.

This was hot and angry and messy and hungry. Their mouths attacked each other in an effort to be _closer, closer, closer._ Baz’s hands were everywhere – on Simon’s shoulders, on his face, on his back. This was sloppy and perfect. _“Simon,”_ Baz whispered. Simon climbed onto Baz’s lap, straddling him, and knotted his fingers in his hair. Their mouths pressed together again, and Simon couldn’t think anything except _Baz._ Baz, here. Baz, kissing him like his life depended on it. Baz, and his heart filled with something he thought he might call _love._

 

BAZ

This was what paradise was like. Kissing Simon Snow. At first, it had seemed like a miracle. _Simon Snow is kissing me._ He couldn’t believe it. It was like a dam had broken. All day, it had been crumbling, and when Simon kissed him, it imploded. Everything he’d ever dreamed about Simon was _right there,_ and he wasn’t letting it go. So when Simon kissed him, he kissed back with a ferocity that could only come from his years of longing. He kissed him back and held onto him, afraid that he’d open his eyes and it would all be a dream.

At some point after Simon had moved onto his lap, they had fallen over (or the world had tilted around them) and Baz was lying on his back. Simon was over him, just far enough away that Baz had to reach up to find Simon’s mouth. And he did. Again and again. He wasn’t done kissing Simon yet. He didn’t think he’d ever be.

Simon lay on the ground next to Baz. Their legs were intertwined, their arms cupping each other’s faces. Each kiss was long and slow, exhausted but unwilling to let go. Each kiss was a promise of something more, something permanent. As the early dawn light began to break through the trees, the two boys fell asleep, tangled together at the edge of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) I'm sorry for that mess. Sometimes I read over that chapter and love it, other times I hate it.  
> B) Random factoid no one cares about: I quite often forget that I'm writing this story in third person, and will start mentally writing the story (when I don't have a computer), think of a line I love, and then realize that I was mentally writing in first person. Why.  
> C) Ebb is and shall always be a proud mom of Snowbaz and it makes me sad every time I remember her canon ending.  
> As always, feedback is appreciated (seriously it makes my day).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is unfortunately going to be the last chapter I post for a while :\ Real life has caught up with me and I don't know when this is going to be finished. I promise it **will** be finished, but probably not on any sort of timeframe. Also, I hate to leave the fic (for now) with this as the last chapter because this is definitely not one of my favorites, but it had to be done. Hopefully sometime in the next few weeks I'll have chapter 10 up, but no promises.  
>  As always, thanks to my sister for betaing.  
> For the purpose of this chapter, the chimera event (and really all those other events, like that time Baz "pushed" Simon down the stairs) is totally canon.

BAZ

Baz woke up slowly. He didn’t want to open his eyes – he was warm and safe and happy. But he was lying on something incredibly uncomfortable. It hurt his back. And he couldn’t figure out why it was so _bright._ Even through closed eyelids, it was much brighter than his room ever was. 

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and squinted. Was he _outside?_ He practically jumped up – or started to, before he noticed the arm slung over his waist. The incredibly familiar arm. All at once, the events of last night came rushing back to him. 

Sensing his movement, Simon pulled Baz closer to him, mumbling incoherently under his breath. Baz wasn’t sure whether Simon was awake or not. A burst of fondness swelled in his chest. He was tempted to stay there, with Simon, for the rest of the day. But they couldn’t just disappear. They had to go back to the castle. Back to real life.

Baz rolled over and sat up. “Good morning, love,” he said softly. Then he winced. He hadn’t _meant_ to call Simon ‘love,’ it just slipped out. Thankfully, Simon didn’t seem to hear him.

“C’mere,” Simon mumbled, reaching an arm out to him.

“Wake up.”

“Don’t want to.” 

“Snow.” Baz smiled. He didn’t think there was anything cuter than sleepy Simon. Especially when he looked like he did now – with a contented half smile on his face and his hair sticking up in every direction.

“You called me Simon last night,” he said, his eyes still closed.

“Yes, I did.” He took Simon’s hand and gently tugged. “You need to get up. We have to go.”

Simon groaned, but sat up, squinting his eyes against the bright sunlight. “No, we don’t.”

Baz rolled his eyes and stood up. “Yeah, we do. The king’s heir has been missing for a day now, you know. People will start to wonder where you are.”

“No. We need to talk. About… last night.”

Baz was surprised. Talking about what had happened hadn’t crossed his mind. He had been planning to fix the mess their disappearance had surely made and hope it happened again. But Simon was right, they did need to talk. “Okay. Let’s talk on our way back?”

Simon shook his head. “Now.” His stomach growled rather loudly, and he changed his mind. “At my room.”

 

Baz was impressed with the amount of food that Simon called breakfast. It was, in his opinion, enough breakfast for his whole family, and he told Simon as much. The only response was a raised middle finger, though it had very little effect as Simon couldn’t seem to stop smiling. He didn’t even seem to know he was doing it.

Once breakfast was over (several pancakes, what seemed to Baz to be literal cartloads of scones, all topped with disgusting amounts of butter, and overflowing cups of coffee) Simon collapsed on his bed. “So. Let’s talk.”

Baz raised an eyebrow. He had assumed Simon had some sort of idea of where this conversation was going to go, but clearly he had been wrong. “First things first. Since when am I the little spoon?” He was only half joking.

Simon laughed into his pillow, shoulders shaking. After a solid minute, he sat up, wiping away a tear. “Really?” His voice came out about an octave higher than normal before being cut off by another bout of laughter. “That’s where you want to start?”

“I’m taller!” Baz exclaimed, pretending to be insulted.

“And yet, still the little spoon.”

“So,” Baz asked, voice quiet, “where did you want to start?”

Simon looked down, unsure. “What was that? Last night?”

Baz could feel himself shutting down, closing off his emotions. “It’s called kissing, Snow. You had a girlfriend, it shouldn’t be a foreign concept.” 

“Yeah, but- it, but,” Simon closed his eyes, clearly trying to find words. “It wasn’t ever like that. With Agatha.”

Baz was confused. He wanted to ask what it had been like, with Agatha. How it had been different. It wasn’t like he had much experience with that sort of thing. He’d thought Snow did. But he didn’t think he could stand hearing about the two of them like _that._

“Why did you kiss me, Baz?”

“You kissed me first, Snow.” Baz was hurt. Did Simon still not know? _Because I love you, Simon Snow._

Simon wrinkled his forehead, looking confused. “Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He smiled, and his fingers brushed his lips unconsciously. 

“Why? I thought you hated me.”

“No. I,” Simon stared down at his sheets, clearly struggling with something. When he did speak, his words were so soft, Baz could barely hear them. “I was jealous of you. Your life was perfect, you had friends, people looked up to you, you were _important._ And I didn’t trust you. You hated me. It was easier to hate you.”

Baz looked at Simon, stunned. “I never hated you, Simon.”

Simon met his gaze. He looked vulnerable, scared, but smiled as he said, “What about the chimera?”

Baz wished he had a bed or a chair to dramatically collapse on. Because he needed to be sitting down. (Because he was a drama queen.) He settled for perching on the windowsill. “I never hated you,” he repeated. “I hated how you made me feel. Weak. The Families have always wanted me to kill you, and I thought if I did,” he paused, desperately willing his voice not to break because _he was stronger than that,_ “that I wouldn’t have to feel that anymore. But when that chimera came after you – I’d never been so scared. There’s a reason the Families haven’t come after you since then.”

Simon looked shocked. His mouth opened and closed, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. He slowly shook his head. “I guess we were both wrong, then.”

“You never answered my question. Simon, why did you kiss me?” Baz’s voice betrayed him. He could hear how desperate for an answer he was in every word he spoke.

“It felt… right.” Simon cocked his head to the side, as if he was listening to his own response, judging it. He must have approved, as he nodded slightly.

“Do you regret it?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” He could’ve left it there, trusted Simon to understand. He didn’t quite understand why he kept talking. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted that.”

“How long?” 

Baz wasn’t sure if Simon was serious. He tilted one corner of his mouth in a half smile. “That’s a secret.”

A thick silence descended on the room. It seemed to draw all the air out of Baz’s lungs. He was determinedly looking everywhere except at Simon.

“Baz?”

Baz slowly turned back to Simon. _I’m listening,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.

“What are we, now?”

“I have no idea. What do you want to be?”

“I was going to marry Agatha, you know. That’s always been what I was supposed to do. What was expected of me. Marry her, have children, become king after my father,” Simon said. Baz wasn’t sure if those words were directed at him or if Simon was just thinking out loud.

“Is that what you want?” He could feel his stomach sinking. _This is ridiculous,_ he told himself. Simon had already said he didn’t regret kissing Baz. If Simon was repulsed by him, if he didn’t want Baz to be around, Baz would never have found himself here. But he still couldn’t quite believe it. He’d told Simon how he felt (an abridged version, anyway), they’d kissed, and _nothing had gone wrong._

“I don’t think so.” Simon took his time, thinking about every word. Baz didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous. “I think I want to try… this. Us.” Simon moved to sit on the windowsill next to Baz. He looked into Baz’s eyes, gaze uncertain but voice steady. “Baz, will you be my boyfriend?”

Baz couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Yes, _fuck,_ Simon, of course.”

“Are you sure? I’m probably a terrible boyfriend,” Simon confessed. “Agatha thought so.”

“Of course I’m sure. And besides, I’m probably a terrible boyfriend too.” Baz tried as best he could to comfort Simon. He was sure that Simon was an amazing boyfriend, the best he could ever wish for, but he didn’t think Simon would believe him. “Not that I’d know. But, hey, I’m going to try, and that’s what matters, right?”

“Well,” Simon took Baz’s hand and squeezed, “here’s to us.”

Baz couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering down to Simon’s lips, then back up to his eyes. Simon’s cheeks were flushed bright red, he had an idiotic grin on his face, and his eyes were sparkling. Baz had never seen him happier, and he was sure he looked the same. He would have been content to just sit there, looking at Simon, for hours. Except Simon’s eyes weren’t looking into his anymore, they were aimed just a bit lower, and Baz could see where Simon had been biting his lip from nerves, where it was pinker and a little swollen, and he didn’t care that he’d spent hours kissing Simon just last night, he’d do it again, hell, he’d kiss Simon for the rest of his life if he could, and he was _allowed_ now – 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

_“Yes.”_

Baz rested his hand on Simon’s cheek, thumb tracing over his triangle of moles as he leaned forward, but Simon must’ve been impatient because he met him halfway, and then they were kissing again, and Baz didn’t think he’d ever get bored of this. It wasn’t anything like last night, fierce and wild, only calming after completely tiring themselves out. This was slow and sweet, a celebration. Their lips moved together, mouths closed, soaking in the moment and the beam of sun falling through the window. Simon tasted like coffee, and Baz had never liked coffee but he thought he liked it much more this way.

Simon pulled back and Baz opened his eyes. Simon’s eyes were sparking; where Simon’s gaze landed on him, Baz caught fire. With every second, Baz grew more impatient. How long was Simon just going to sit there, looking at him? Simon seemed to want to memorize every detail of Baz’s face, but there was so much more want behind his blue eyes, and normally he wouldn’t complain (this was everything he’d wished for) but he could think of so many more ways they could be learning each other. But then Simon reached out and tucked Baz’s hair behind his ear and leaned in to kiss him again, and Baz couldn’t think. 

This kiss was fire, starting as one low tendril of flame that jumped and spread as Simon brushed his tongue over Baz’s lower lip. Baz let out an embarrassing whine and had just enough time to think _oh, please don’t let Simon have heard that_ before Simon’s tongue curled around his and he made a much louder, more desperate sound. 

This kiss was fighting, the same push and pull, clashing against each other, but now they weren’t aiming to injure. Baz grabbed Simon’s shoulders, his waist, pulling him closer, and Simon reached up to tangle his fingers in Baz’s hair. Vaguely, Baz registered that they were making out while sitting in an open window and that this was probably a bad idea, but then they were tripping over each other, not willing to let go long enough to move to the couch. Simon’s fingers were lifting the hem of his shirt slightly, leaving trails of scorching heat everywhere they touched, and Simon was doing something with his chin and Baz didn’t know what it was but _fuck_ it felt good. He barely made it to the couch before his legs seemed to stop working and he found himself lying on his back, Simon propping himself up on his elbows above him. 

Baz distantly heard a creaking noise, ignoring it in favor of running his fingers through Simon’s hair and holding him close. He thought he might’ve heard it again, but it was probably just the couch springs and it didn’t matter when Simon was right here, kissing him like this. Like he was something to be desired. The floorboards squeaked, but Baz couldn’t register anything that wasn’t Simon Snow.

“Simon?” an unfamiliar voice cut through Baz’s thoughts. Panicked, they both turned to stare in shock at the figure of Penelope Bunce standing in front of the closed door. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments/kudos are appreciated and inspire me to write more (aka end this brief hiatus sooner).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon learns of a nerve-wracking conversation while Baz is handed an ultimatum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you just can only have so much fluff in a row, right? (my summary feels like an episode summary for a bad tv show and I love it)  
> okay so I'm kind of cheating on the Carry On Countdown by posting this chapter for Day 21: royalty au. But I think it counts bc it's technically new content.

SIMON

Simon was confused. Or, well, not confused, but some complicated mix of emotions he didn’t have a name for. As soon as he’d seen Penny, he immediately felt embarrassed and ashamed, relieved and disappointed. Anyone would be embarrassed in that situation, he told himself. But it wasn’t just that his best friend had walked in on him making out with someone, though that had never happened before. It was that Penny, someone he’d complained about Baz to for years, had walked in on him making out with the person he was supposed to hate most. And who also happened to be underneath him, eyes still blown wide, hair a complete wreck. 

He wasn’t sure why he felt ashamed, though. He didn’t want to be. Maybe it was that he knew this wasn’t what was expected of him. But he’d just blindly followed what people expected of him his whole life, and he was done. Maybe it was that Baz wasn’t a girl. That was probably something they were going to have to deal with – Simon couldn’t remember anything like this happening in the castle before, not even stories. That didn’t matter though, they both wanted to make this work, so they would.

The relief and disappointment were a bit easier to place. Relief that it had been Penny to interrupt them – he didn’t know who else would come to see him, but he wasn’t ready for random people to know about them. Not yet. And he certainly wasn’t ready for his father to know. He wished she hadn’t come, though. Not then. He wished that they hadn’t had to stop. 

Simon and Baz stared expectantly at Penny, waiting for her to say something. Instead, she just stared right back, suspiciously eyeing both of them. Her mouth hung open in surprise. 

“When did this happen?!”

“Um, last night?” Simon said hesitantly.

Penny punched the air victoriously. “I knew it!” She pointed to the couch, where they had made no effort to disentangle themselves. “You two were so _obvious_! It took you long enough!”

Simon glanced at Baz, then back to Penny. “We were? What?”

“Oh, come on! I totally saw this coming,” Penny crowed victoriously. “I want to hear the whole story. But not now. Baz, you have to go.”

Simon started to sit up, and Baz shoved his shoulder. “What? OW! Crowley, Snow, watch your knee!”

Simon looked down at his knee, which had ended up in a very unfortunate place as he clumsily tried to move himself off Baz. “Sorry.”

Penny suppressed a laugh. “You boys are hopeless.”

Baz gave her his most intimidating stare. It wasn’t nearly as scary as it had been the other times Simon had seen Baz use it, probably because of his current state. Baz had flushed bright red, his shirt hem was pushed up, and he had just succeeded in pushing himself to a sitting position. It wasn’t exactly conducive to terrifying glares. (It did look extremely-well. Simon’s mind kept straying to rather… _interesting_ places when he looked at Baz, so he turned back to Penny.) “Bunce. Why did you say I had to leave?”

At that, Penny immediately sobered. “Simon. Your father is coming. He said it was urgent.” 

“My father? What – why?”

“I don’t know, but it’s important. ‘Future of the kingdom,’ he said.” 

“Oh. Okay. I’ll just – um, I’ll, make myself presentable.”

Simon could feel himself getting more and more worked up every second. He shot off the couch and raced around the room, searching for clean clothes and shoving the clutter into corners. _Why does he want to see me? Does he know?_ He couldn’t think of how he might have found out about him and Baz, but Simon couldn’t think of another explanation for why his father might want to see him. Why he would choose now after months of silence. _How does he know?_ His hands shook as he hurriedly tried to tame his hair. _What is he going to do?_ Simon’s agitation threatened to pour out as sparks of magic. When he was like this, he could set the room on fire by accident. Usually, he left the castle, but now that wasn’t an option. _What am I going to do?_

 

BAZ

Simon looked like he was having a meltdown. It hurt Baz, physically hurt him, not to be able to go comfort Simon, talk him down from the disaster he could see coming. The air was charged with the power of Simon’s magic, simmering just under the surface, reaching the boiling point. 

He had to leave. The king was coming, and there was no telling what would happen if he caught Baz in Simon’s rooms. Especially looking as disheveled as he did at the moment. But he couldn’t leave without making sure Simon was all right, that he wouldn’t go off.

“Si, hey, Simon.” Baz laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder and gently turned him around. He could see the panic in Simon’s eyes, and he hated the king for putting that there. His hand slid down Simon’s arm until he was holding Simon’s hands in both of his own. “There’s no use getting worked up over this. Breathe. It will all be just fine, okay? No need to worry.” Baz reached out to brush Simon’s hair out of where it had fallen over his eyes before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He felt slightly awkward doing this in front of Bunce – somehow it seemed too intimate of an act, something private. This was a bit ridiculous, given that she’d only a few minutes ago walked in on them doing things that were much more private than this, but it was hard to get rid of the instincts from years of keeping his feelings secret. “Okay?”

Simon said nothing, but the charge in the air started to dissipate.

“I have to go now. I’ll see you later?” Baz asked hesitantly. He locked eyes with Simon for a second, and the frantic light there was fading.

“Later,” Simon whispered, nodding his head.

Baz gave Simon a half smile before slipping out the door.

 

Walking across the castle, Baz had to resist the urge to run down the corridors, to shout triumphantly at the sky. He’d finally done it. He’d kissed the boy of his dreams. (Or the boy had kissed him. Semantics.) And now they were _dating. Officially_. He could barely believe it.

He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy before. He hadn’t known it was _possible_ to feel like this before. A few times, he had to remind himself to breathe – it was the cheesiest thing he’d ever heard, but it felt like his heart had expanded, and there wasn’t room for his lungs anymore. The few people he passed in the corridors looked curiously at the blissful smile on his face. (Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch was not known for smiling or endorsing the general concept of happiness.) He found he didn’t care; he was on top of the world.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about Simon. It was habit by this point, but he had good reason. The way Simon had reacted to his father – something was seriously wrong there. What had he been afraid of? The only thing that kept Baz walking away from Simon was the knowledge that Simon had asked him to leave. He had the distinct feeling that whatever was going on, his presence would only make it worse. 

As he neared the door to his rooms, Baz’s mind fell back into what he could tell would be an often-repeated train of thought: Simon Snow’s lips on his. He felt like he was floating. He remembered how Simon had looked in the sunlight, highlighted in gold. He relived lacing his fingers with Simon’s, and his own fingers involuntarily twitched. He drifted back into his thoughts, the feeling of Simon running his fingers through Baz’s hair, as he unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside.

“Basilton. We need to talk.”

 

_Why did this keep happening to him?_ Baz’s face, which had already been slightly flushed, turned bright red. “Father?” He addressed the imposing figure of Malcom Grimm.

“Where have you been?” In the dark of the room, Baz couldn’t see his father’s eyes, though he could feel them boring holes in him. Malcom presided over the room from his seat in the wooden chair in front of the low-burning fire. The light glinted off the gold on his cuffs and his polished shoes. Everything about him was meant to cultivate fear and respect, and despite years of exposure, Baz was not immune.

He shut all thoughts of Simon away, they would only hinder him. “I was doing as you asked. I caught sight of Snow leaving the castle, and I followed to report on his movements.”

“That is not an excuse for missing the meeting of the Families, Basilton,” Malcom admonished. “Your report is meaningless. Our plan is set in place; nothing can stop us now.”

“What is it?” Baz asked, fighting to maintain a front of cool interest and not let his fear slip through.

Malcolm laughed. “You missed your chance, Basilton. You’ll see soon enough. By next week, both the ridiculous king and his idiot son will be dead.”

Baz grinned sharply enough to satisfy his father. “I look forward to it.” In his mind, he was already running through the ways he could somehow save Simon. But he couldn’t do anything without knowing the plan. “I hope to be of service to the Families in the future,” he said, respectfully bowing his head.

“I have a special place waiting for you once the Families rule. But if you fail me again…” Malcolm strode out of Baz’s room.

Baz didn’t know how families were supposed to work, and he was fairly sure that Simon didn’t either. But one thing he did know was that _this_ , what had just happened, was wrong. Baz sank down onto his bed and hung his head in his hands. If he saved Simon, he would die for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't be fooled, this fic is still very much on hiatus. I have to finish the Countdown, my little mermaid au, and _then_ I will finish this. But it probably won't be up until February or March :/  
>  (if people actually care, encouragement could get this written as early as January)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this mess! Comments and kudos make my day :)


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